


Interruptions

by JoeCoolNerd, SilhouetteJumper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, BAMF John, Johnlock! - Freeform, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, vampire!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeCoolNerd/pseuds/JoeCoolNerd, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilhouetteJumper/pseuds/SilhouetteJumper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John W., Sherlock have been together for months. During this time Sherlock has deduced that John is a vampire and that he loves him and John loves him back. But when something arises that threatens their relationship, how will they act? Can they save it? Johnlock!fic vampire!John  BAMF!john. Possible smut. Trigger warning for abuse and violence minor swearing. Rating will go up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aztecs

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: Aztecs  
> A/N:  
> First story I have co-written with Silhouette Jumper And it’s his first fanfiction ever so please welcome him. Leave reviews at the bottom please! Loves!  
> Italics is the telly  
> Bold is a past conversations between Sherlock and John. These are important. Read them.  
> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own Sherlock BBC nor Sir Author Doyle’s version. All rights go to the original creators and all affiliated people or groups. No profits were made in the production of this story and all plot ideas and affiliated belong to the authors, thank you.  
> OoOoOo

**“John…stop.” “What?” “I-I- haven’t.” “You mean you’re a-” “Virgin. Yes.”**

_Just coming back from an art gallery. John and Sherlock are sitting down to watch some crap telly. Airing on said telly is a history documentary on the Aztecs._

John shouts from where he is seated, “Sherlock! Look it’s the Aztecs!”

“Who?” asks Sherlock momentarily looking up from his microscope that he just sat down at.

“The Aztecs. You know, your ancient ancestors.”

“Well, clearly they’re not related to me, look at how short and stubby they are.”

“I didn’t say they were…I said they’re the Aztecs. Mexicas.”

_It is believed that the daughter of a chief and the son of -_

“Wedding. Dear God, don’t tell me you’re still on that.”

“Well, it’s an important step and I believe that---”

_They ripped the heart out of -_

Sherlock is staring at the telly entranced as he watches the heart being pulled out and offered to the sun god. “Can we just-. Oh, never mind what were you looking at in your microscope?”

“Hmm..” hummed Sherlock turning to look at John. “Oh. Ah…Stuff.” He promptly turned back to the telly.

“Oh,” said John. The detective leans back and enters his mind palace half listening to the world outside it.

_Sun._

“Son? Are we still going on about that subject? There will be no son John. I don’t a little squirmy boy running around,” said Sherlock hotly.

Startled and not knowing quite what was happening John replied, “How about a daughter then?”

_Tenochtitlan was the Aztec’s—_

“Ten- ten-o-ch-il…What kind of name is that?! And no absolutely not girls are annoying as well,” said Sherlock.

“That’s an Ancient Aztec name Sherlock. You know what fine. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened. I’m going out and when I return I’m going to pretend none of this has ever happened,” said John venom pronounced in every word. With a slam to the door he left. Sherlock rose from his laying position on the sofa and sat, puzzled, wondering whatever he had done to make John so mad. He had not realized that John had left.

~3 Hours Later~

“John? How about twins?”

“John?”

~1 Hour Later~

“I’m back what are you watching?” Sherlock was staring blankly at the telly, his hand moving rapidly through his mind palace. With a huff John threw his bomber jacket on his armchair, “You know what. Fine. Ignore me.” He marched upstairs and closed the door to his room. Sherlock obliviously still goes through his mind palace mumbles, “Sorry. Whatever I did to offend you. Sorry. Review interactions with John. Search: offensive words?”

Little after John climbed down the stairs and sighed. He peeked into the sitting room and said softly, “Sherlock are you okay?” Frowning he crouched down in front of his love and poked him, “Sherlock. Are you okay?” Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open in anger at being interrupted.

“I was in my mind palace John. Go bother Mrs. Hudson.” He closed his eyes again and began to concentrate again; his curly dark brunette hair seemed to be thinning. Or maybe it had to do with the fact in the ceiling above Sherlock there was a leak and that leak was falling on his head. John looked up at the leak and then back at the semi-drenched detective, glaring at him with narrowing eyes. “Sherlock…” The water ran down his sharp cheekbones and dripped slowly down his narrow neck. John felt his vampire instincts tingle.

“What. What is it?” snapped Sherlock, “What could be so important that you interrupt me a second time?

John glared at Sherlock baring his fangs, “You are sitting under **a leak**. And while may be smarter than most humans you aren’t exactly immune to getting sick. So if you continue sitting there, you **will** catch a cold and I **will not,”** he paused, “ **will not** help you get better.”

“It just a couple of drops. This isn’t going to to hut--” Sherlock sneezes, “ hurt me.” He shakes his damp hair and sneezes again.

“Bloody hell,” muttered John. “You haven’t moved since I left since the first time have you?”

Sherlock shook his head and sneezed again. John stared at him and nodded before briskly getting up after Sherlock began shivering uncontrollably. John went into their bedroom and grabbed a new change of clothes. There to which he dragged the annoying detective to the bathroom and turning on the hot water and leaving him. Sherlock got out of the bathroom, grumbling and freshly changed, wrapping his robe tightly around him. He muttered thanks to John heading towards his coach and upon finding it wet he turned and sat in John’s armchair. He sneezed as he settled down. To this John said nothing but a half-hearted glare his way from where he was leaning against the desk. He stood there a while biting his lower lips, his fangs dipping into them sharply. Smelling the vitality of Sherlock, normal but with a hint of a possible incoming sickness, the heard his pulsing heart; the rush of his blood cursing through and soon got lost in its rhythmic beat. He unbuttoned his one of his shirt buttons and fanned at his flushed face. “Isn’t a bit hot in here,” he asked Sherlock smirking.

“Hmmm..?” Sherlock said looking up only to be stopped by the pressure of John’s lips against his own. John’s fangs bit tenderly against the inside of Sherlock’s cheek before hungrily eating up the detective’s taste. Sherlock’s hand went up the backside of John underneath his shirt as he responded deeply and as greedily. “Sorry…for…earlier…” he whispered between breaths. John gave no verbal response but began untying Sherlock’s robe. Sherlock pulled him to closer to him and stumbling they both fell off the armchair as a tangle of detective and vampire. Well, more detective than vampire.

Sherlock looked up, “Sorry..?’ he said sheepishly.

“Oh don’t be” purred John scooping up the detective as he getting up, removing his shirt in the process.

“Boys,” yelled Mrs. Hudson as she came up the stairs and entered the flat. The door had been open. Disturbing the passionate atmosphere, Sherlock recollected himself and stood.

“Ah…Mrs. Hudson,” he squeaked and cleared his throat before speaking louder, “Mrs. Hudson. Get the hell out of here.”

“S-S-Sherlock,” she stuttered.

“Out. Now.”

“Oh. Oh. Fine. But, boys, please, keep down, I could hear all the way from my flat. What will the neighbors say?”

“Considering that 80% of them are out and the other either doing the same or sleeping. I really don’t care. So out **now** Mrs. Hudson.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Mrs. Hudson as she stumbled out of the flat.

“Sherlock...” John whispered as he moved towards him. To this he said nothing and began walking towards his microscope. He sat and began examining some blood samples that he had found, somewhere. Frowning John leaned unto the detective’s shoulder and whispered into his ear, “Sherlock…”

“Would you please stop John? I’m busy. You lived with me long enough with me to know when I’m busy.” Sherlock looked at John furiously, his mouth in a scowl. John looked down sadly and he blinked several times.

His face was flushed pink with embarrassment and with a heart-breaking sigh he said, “I’m sorry Sherlock.” He ran up the stairs and briskly entered his old room; nearly tripping in the process.

“John! John!” Sherlock called   as he started to follow after him. He was about to head up the stairs when he heard a voice behind him.

“Aw…Did you broke his heart, hurt his feelings?” it said coming from the shadows.


	2. Blood

Chapter 2: Blood

[ Dedicated to: Diary_of_Madness](../../../users/Diary_of_Madness/pseuds/Diary_of_Madness)

A/N: With all respect this fanfic is not what it originally came out to be. It was supposed to be a set of scenes where Sherlock and John over-analyze scenes/groups of people form history but…it turned…into this…

Bold is a past conversations between Sherlock and John. These are important. Read them.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sherlock BBC nor Sir Author Doyle’s version. All rights go to the original creators and all affiliated people or groups. No profits were made in the production of this story and all plot ideas and affiliated belong to the authors, thank you.

OoOoOo

**“Are vampires all violent?” “No, not usually. Unless we’re going to feed. Then we’re very protective. Actually anything we feel the need to protect makes us violent. It’s not pretty.”**

“Who are you,” demanded Sherlock walking closer to the shadowy form.

“You know very well who I am Sherlock,” said Moriarty stepping out of the shadow wearing a leather jacket and holding a blood-stained whip in his hands as he raised it above his head and brought it down on Sherlock’s chest before he could react with a brisk slash as it echoed in the flat. Sherlock stumbled backwards, gasping, as he clutched his bleeding chest. Moriarty kicked Sherlock knocking him down and placed a combat boot on his chest pressing down hard before crossing an arm over his knee and looking down on Sherlock. ~“The name’s Jim Moriarty, vampire hunter. And I’ve come here for your lover <3~”

OoOoo

John slammed the door to his room and put his head on the doorframe. “John! John!” he heard Sherlock calling. ‘That git,’ he thought. ‘ He acted like he was ready then repented at the last moment. Damn Mrs. Hudson!’ He went to the old bed and flopped down on it. Crack! Then a gasp of pain that could only belong to Sherlock. He opened the door and rushed out swiftly arriving next to Sherlock and relaying the scene just in time to here the phrases, “vampire hunter and for you lover”. Moriarty looked up and smiled wickedly, lifting his boot off of Sherlock to face his opponent. “Well. Well. Looks like he is already here,” said Moriarty. Sherlock struggled to stand up and John reached down pulling his arm to steady him as he rose. “Now, isn’t that adorable? He’s helping you.”

“What do you want?” hissed John, his fangs bared as he stared at a long bleeding slash mark on Sherlock’s chest. He looked up with anger radiating off of him. 

“You already know what I want John. I want you John. To slay you!” said Moriarty as stepped towards John with a deadly speed. John gently shoved Sherlock out of the way as he looked up and found Moriarty’s whip to slashing through the air. The whip came close to the side of John’s face but he clutched it in one hand and pulled. Startled, Moriarty lost his balance and stumbled forwards. He struggled back to his feet but he was too late, John was already upon him. He flashed his gleaming white fangs as he took Moriarty and held him down.

“You said you were going to slay me? Don’t make me laugh,” hissed John into Moriarty’s ear. Moriarty attempted to John off his back. He lifted Moriarty by his collar and ran his tongue across his neck before nipping at the delicate skin between his lips, his fangs protruding from his mouth.

“John, stop! Let him go!” called Sherlock alarmed at the scene as he rushed to John, clutching his chest.

“Stay out of this Sher!” growled John.

“John. Please. Let .Him. Go,” said Sherlock again holding his hands out, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” John and picked up Moriarty, tossing him out the window.

“I’ll get yo-” Moriarty yelled but his words were cut off as he fell to the ground.

“You didn’t need to be so dramatic,” said Sherlock frowning at the broken window. His sleeve was dripping in red blood that was coming from the slash mark. John went over to Sherlock and held his beloved close to him. He glanced at Sherlock’s face smiling weakly before looing again at his bleeding chest, a small question in his eyes.

“Go ahead John,” said Sherlock. Unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt he tenderly kissed Sherlock’s chest and gingerly licking the wound. Sherlock shuddered as John’s kisses left warm traces as they closed the wound. He continued patiently until the wound was nothing but a thin pink line. “Thanks,” whispered Sherlock coarsely giving him a small peck on his lips. John smiled and embraces tighter resting his cheek on the detective’s hair. “John? Why did he want kill you?” asked Sherlock puzzled, “Why did they want to kill you?”

“It’s nothing; love,” said John sternly, “Just a few bad relations from old times.” John let go of Sherlock and then went to Sherlock’s bedroom to look for another change, again.

“I don’t need help changing my clothes,” shouted Sherlock after him as they entered the room. He crossed his arms and pouted.

“I’m sure you don’t. But in this mess,” said John gesturing to the room and the piles of thrown shirts, pants, and coats littering the floor, “only a vampire could find anything remotely close to be clean and I am a vampire.” He shuffled through the piles on the floor before finding a somewhat cleaner shirt and walking over to Sherlock who was sitting on the bed sorting his mind palace. John paused and waved his hand in front of Sherlock’s face. Sherlock didn’t react. Smirking, he crouched down near Sherlock and swiftly (for a vampire that is) removed Sherlock’s unbuttoned off before he could notice. Startled at the sudden cold air, Sherlock’s mind palace dissipated and he found that his shirt had been removed. Scowling he looked over at John who was overcome with silent laughter on the bed. When John had settled down, Sherlock gave him a weak smile and put on his shirt. John settled in next to John.

“Thanks. For, um…saving me there,” said Sherlock brushing his hand on the doctor’s cheek and kissing him. John’s nostrils flared at his warm scent entering his nose. Sherlock pulled back as if to end the kiss but John pulled him in the kiss becoming deeper, hungrier. He pushed Sherlock on the bed and his lips traced down Sherlock’s chin, throat, and his pale porcelain neck.

“Oh, Sherlock,” muttered John licking his neck and reaching lower.

“John,” said Sherlock hoarsely. John gently pierced his fangs into Sherlock’s skin. His warm blood spread out and onto the vampire’s tongue going soothingly down his throat. “John stop,” said Sherlock louder attempting to move away. John ignored Sherlock and he sucked harder on Sherlock’s blood. John hand grabbed Sherlock’s back reaching low. Sherlock gave out a small gasp. “John stop!,” yelled Sherlock as he shoved the doctor off him. He scrambled away and put his hand on his neck. Crimson fell in between his fingers, his eyes wide in panic and Fear. John stumbled up full of guilt and horror. ‘What had he done?!’ he though with realization and saw what he had done to the detective.

“John-I,” Sherlock began to say but the doctor ran out of the room and out of the flat. He rested his head against the door tears streaming down his face as he gasped for air. He wiped his mouth hand saw his blood on his hands. He stayed for a while the image repeating itself in his mind. Sherlock. Neck. Blood. Not safe. Monster. Scared. Scared. He turned and fled down the stairs, tears falling, and in his haste nearly toppled into Sally on his way out. He mumbled an apology before continuing out and sidestepping Greg.

“Was there blood on his shirt and hands,” asked Sally bewildered.

“What?” Lestrade asked recovering from his shock.

“Never mind,” said Sally, “What do you think happened to John?”

“I have no idea…” said Lestrade pausing as the other Yarders started to come up the stairs.’

~OoOoOo~

“John!” Sherlock cried trying to grab as fear, horror, and sorrow passed through John’s face with the realization to what he had done. With hurt etched on his face, John stumbled out. Sherlock rushed up to grab him but the world bent and twisted in a swirling mix of colours that ended with the floor crashing up on him. Blearily, he laid there a few moments before slowly rising up and putting his hand on his neck. When he pulled it back, it came a bright, crimson red. Shakingly standing against the wall he picked an old thrown shirt and pressed down hard in an attempt to slow down the bleeding. Wincing he walked carefully through the flat looking for John and leaving half bloody handprints and smears along the way. Upon not finding John, he dropped the now red-soaked t-shirt and limped his way into the bathroom, earning him along with the others from wandering, new sets of bruises and scrapes along his body. Black dots danced in his vision as he turned on the tap before he passed out onto the cold tile floor.

OoOoOo OoOoo

Loves! R&R!


	3. We're Not A Couple?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> Don't own Sherlock neither BBC's nor Sir Author Doyle's and not making any profit by publishing this work.

Moriarty woke up to the smell of rubbish thanks to a certain vampire’s attack. Grimacing, he dragged himself up the fire escape and back to that bastard vampire flat. Stumbling through the window, he fell onto the couch and managed to hit his face on the edge of the coffee table, another bruise for the collection. Taking off his boots to pointlessly try and not alert the vampire, who would have most definitely heard him by now, he noticed the blood streaks across the walls and banister.

 

He came to stop at the washroom where the detective was passed out, still bleeding but most importantly filling the air with blood.

 

“You should have let me take him away dear,” he said as he hoisted him up the floor leaving behind a smeared blood trail. “See what happened, now you’ve been truly hurt.”

 

Carrying the detective down the stairs, he propped him up on the couch as he ruffled through the haphazardly laid lab materials before finding some bandages and kit. He took a small sample of blood from the neck, for categorizing, and cleaned up the wound with the bandages. A loud knock from the door interrupted his thoughts.

 

“This is Scotland Yard. Open up now.”

 

‘Sod it,’ thought Moriarty, ‘Yarders. If those idiots saw this, they would blame it on me. Act first, think…they don’t think.’

 

Smirking he walked quickly across the room, snatching a sheet from the floor and removing his shirt which was quickly followed by his trousers and pants. Tossing the sheet around his waist he wiped the blood from his whip and looked at himself in the mirror.

_‘Perfect,’_ he thought smiling.

 

The door was opened with a smile and Lestrade looked at the man in shock. It appeared well…if the whip was anything…

 

“Um…uh,” stuttered Lestrade trying to keep his mind from straying too much at the implications.

 

The man sighed and tapped the door with the tip of his whip. “Would you get on with it? I am a bit busy,” he said gesturing to the flat behind him.

 

Cheeks tinged red he managed to stammer, “This is a dru-. Sod it. Is Sherlock…um…there?” he said with a cough. “We need him to give us some answers about a case.”

 

Stepping forward the man replied, “This isn’t a good time. How about you come when he isn’t so…breathless.” He traced the Inspector’s lips with his whip for emphasis.

 

Lestrade’s burned crimson. “We’ll be on our way then,” he said hurriedly, “but do tell him we dropped by.” The man nodded and closed the door behind him. Lestrade hurried back down the stairs bumping in Sally as she was making her way up.

 

“Well?” she demanded, “Was the freak in?”

 

Lestrade gave her a glare, “Not exactly.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean,” she demanded, “did you at least find out why John was bleeding?”

 

“He wasn’t bleeding, he was just running away from…” he stopped.

 

“Oh for crying out loud,” she said marching up the stairs and pounding on the door. “Freak! What did you do to John?!”

 

Moriarty opened the door angrily and smiled viciously, “He just doesn’t know how to handle heartbreak.” He shut the door in her startled face and sighed. “Yarders.”

 

He smiled as his suspicions were confirmed the vampire did have a human mate. Saving his life had been worth it. He climbed up the steps joyfully calling out, “Oh Sherlock! Are you ready to play?” Hearing no reply he continued, “Because I’m ready to play! Oh….the game is on! And you…you’ll be the princess!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> OoOoOoOo  
> R&R! Loves!


End file.
